Cassette 5: Van Gogh Museum (1977)/Transcript
This is the official transcript for the episode which can also be accessed for free at'' patreon.com/withinthewires. Minor edits have been made for accuracy, these are listed at the bottom of the page.'' LIA: Welcome to the The Van Gogh Museum. I am Lia Bakker, director of curation. Over the past two years we have been exploring the early lives of some of the 20th century's most influential artists. Our current exhibition shows the childhood paintings, sketches, and diaries of Claudia Atieno. As part of this ongoing series, we have often had the artists featured comment on their juvenile work, but in the case of Atieno that is not possible. Atieno has not been seen now for some years - and while we may never know what happened to her, at this distance of time it seems unlikely that she is still living. The Van Gogh Museum, along with the wider artistic community, deeply mourns the loss of such an impactful and important voice. As we can’t get comment from the artist herself, we have approached her contemporary, and close personal friend, Roimata Mangakahia to provide insights to the childhood work of Claudia Atieno. The exhibit is in the ground floor of the Exhibition Wing. Follow the numbered signs, and press play whenever you see an audio guide placard. And pause after each tone you hear. We hope you enjoy your visit to the Van Gogh Museum. #TONE# ROIMATA: It is always interesting to contemplate the art of a child who was destined to become truly vital. Surely, there are key developmental differences between the great artist and the ordinary - whether it be their drawing stick figures with arms coming out of their torsos, or having the imagination to give their stick figure a pet elephant instead of a dog. However, it is debatable how much we can really learn from this. We must always be aware that no amount of developmentally advanced childhood scribbles can truly take the place of the years of hard work and dedication it takes to develop true skill and a genuine artistic voice. Brilliance is not innate. Nor is it taught. Brilliance is rote. It is tedium. It is practice. You must enjoy what you do, or at least tolerate it, in order to become great. Here we will examine Claudia Atieno’s childhood, and we may be impressed at her early skill. But it is important to remember that many children show aptitudes that they do not develop further. Atieno’s childhood work may indeed be remarkable, but it is likely remarkable for reasons other than artistic merit. First it is remarkable that these sketchbooks and paintings survived at all. Born toward the end of the decades-long Great Reckoning, Claudia grew up as the world around her was being completely reshaped, as more than a quarter of the world’s population was decimated through war, famine, and cataclysmic natural forces. She was of the last generation to be raised by her parents, along with her siblings, and although a process was devised to separate this generation’s ideologies and prejudices from those of their parents, they were not made to forget them, as would be true of later children, such as me, and likely you, too. Through these early works, it is possible to divine something of what it was like for this transitional generation, to have your existence changed so dramatically, and to know that those who came after you would never experience a life like the one you had. Humanity’s survival is predicated on its self-governance, and the new Society has protected us from even greater Reckonings. While we can learn and observe certain things about Claudia the child, and Claudia the teenager, and make guesses from them on Claudia as an adult, whether there is anything to learn about Claudia the artist is up for debate. And surely there is little to gather about where she is today. Honestly, I fear the worst. Claudia’s mother kept much of her childhood work - everything from finger paintings done as an infant to the charcoal portraits of pre-adolescence, so we have a comprehensive view of how her art progressed up until age 12 - perhaps more comprehensive that we really need it to be. Work from Claudia’s adolescence, after she was moved to the new society programming centre, however, is more scarce. I would like to be able to tell you exactly why this is, but in truth, I do not know. It is possible Claudia simply drew and painted less after she left her family. It is possible the centre was less committed to keeping the work of its wards - indeed, with thirty or so children to care for, it is understandable if more childhood relics slipped through the cracks. It is possible also that Claudia herself started discarding some of her work - she was old enough by this point to be more discerning about what was worth keeping. But there is little point in speculating over works we cannot see, while we have plenty to talk about before our eyes. #TONE# One - Childhood Home, 1935 Look closely at the standard box-structure of the home, brown walls, windows, and a yellow front door. There is a chimney stack on top, and clouds above. If you have seen Atieno’s House With Yellow Door, painted in her adulthood, you may recognize this picture. I might even consider this drawing an early study of the later masterwork. Represented here is a style of childhood drawing that is no longer commonly seen, but was once incredibly popular. The drawings - crudely done, obviously, by children of roughly five or six - would feature a simple house, standing alone on a flat green line. There would be a door, a couple of windows, a chimney, often putting forth smoke, although invariably the scene depicted would be a nice day, with a sun beaming from the sky, as shown by a single line of blue. Beside the house would stand several figures - two taller, and at least one (the artist) smaller. Children were drawing their families, and would include however many siblings they happened to have, and any family pets. Nowadays, these once common drawings have been replaced - the houses by the larger, more functional clinic buildings where children are raised, and the families by teams of caretakers. Atieno herself painted and sketched several of these old fashioned pictures as a child. There is much you can glean from them yourself of course, as they are displayed. Look here. She drew the sky as blue and the ground as green, but the sky is not a simple line far above our heads, but rather an all encompassing atmosphere. Notice where her simple, crude, picture develops a horizon. Look at the family dog in standing the lower right of this drawing. Notice she has drawn two horizontal black lines for the dogs eyes. Do dogs sleep while standing? It is tempting to look at these early drawings and paintings and see depth and skill that isn’t there. After all, we know what Claudia would go on to accomplish. But in truth there is not much to distinguish them from the work of any other child with a modicum of artistic talent. These are borderline finger-paintings. There is no fire or inspiration or even an unusual amount of imagination. She drew her house. It’s historically interesting is all. The same drawings have been made time and time again by children across the globe. Knowing Claudia, she probably looked at what other kids were drawing and just drew that. But we must not judge to harshly - after all, she was only a child. #TONE# 2 - Childhood Home, Left By the time Claudia was removed to the programming centre, of course, she was 13, so her style is more sophisticated, although she had yet to develop real skill. Still, the house in the painting is recognisable as the actual house she had left behind. Notice her use water colours, finding how to layer the paint to create wood-like texture on the ashen siding. The house is yellow, as you can see, the woodwork is clear. The space around it is filled with the swing set and bicycles we know the family had. Pay attention the absence of the family dog. Where did it go? Where did you go? Are you no longer someplace you once were? Can you notice a thing that is not there? This painting would have been made about 7 years after the previous, so it is possible that the dog died. But it’s also a significant reminder of the memories programmed out of children. It’s difficult to say whether the dog died, or just the memory of it. The family themselves stands collected just outside the house. Claudia’s parents, her sister, her three brothers. Claudia herself is absent, however. Perhaps this implies that it is a picture of house she pictured her home after she had left it. It is an inaccurate picture, of course, as her brothers and sisters were also removed, taken to other centres, and her mother and father were left there alone. So perhaps this is how she thought of her family. Anachronistically reunited in her absence. Together, still. In their happy life, with her alone removed from it. #TONE# 3 - New Environments This is a collection of twelve, tiny drawings, depicting areas of the programming centre where Claudia spent her adolescence. There is a theme of personal distance in much of the work Claudia created while she was at the centre. She followed up her melancholic look back at the home that once was hers with a the closest thing to a home she would have for some years. Some of the pictures are outside in the courtyards and gardens, some in the dedicated recreation spaces, some in the dining rooms, and a couple in the dormitories. Each drawing shows a collection of children, with caretakers hovering around them. Sometimes the children are playing a group game together - in one, they seem to be chasing after a ball of some kind, in one there are skipping ropes. Sometimes they are working quietly, sometimes they are eating. Et cetera. Look at the twelve-picture grid. Starting on the top row, going from left to right, think of these as a chronological order of a day. First, see the relaxation exercises in the garden. See the children, eyes closed and breathing, their hands on their knees. Look at the next two drawings of the dining hall, as children eat breakfast, and then later receive instructions over the loudspeakers. Look at the children’s rapt attention to the sound. Look at their eyes. Are they attentive, or distant? Are you attentive? How do you know? How far away are you? Do you mean that figuratively? In the next few pictures we see, in order: classroom education, an isolation room, and physical education. In the last one on the top row, look at the children running. It looks like two of them are holding hands. This is possibly just the angle of the drawing, but I believe Claudia was suggesting young romance, particularly in an environment that forbade it. Along the bottom row, you will see a picture of lunch. Nothing exciting there. Then a picture of musical lessons - the children gathered around a piano their eyes covered with towels, as an instructor plays a tune. The next two images are of tactile re-training. Notice the wires running up each child’s arm. You probably remember these from your own programming centre. Even in Atieno’s time, tactile re-training was unpleasant, but probably the most valuable skills we learned. And the last three images are simply children speaking to one another during class breaks in the garden. Look at the way the children in the last picture are huddled close to one another. Notice the similarities in features between these two and the two running in the earlier drawing. Are they leaning into whispers and secrets. About themselves, about someone else. Are their knees touching. As an adolescent, did you ever let your knees touch anothers? Each of these pictures include Atieno, but she is never included in activity. She is always off to the side. You can see her. Look for the long braids, the small figure, and sharp shoulders. That girl could not easily be mistaken for anyone other than Claudia. She was - is - a distinctive-looking woman. Beautiful and robust. She drew herself well. Many people at this age either fantasize a greater or lesser version of themselves. Claudia always knew what she looked like. Atieno’s absence from these images may suggest she never engaged much with the rest of the children. Or perhaps this is an attempt to communicate how she felt - to show the world the loneliness no one seemed to see. And what of the two girls running together, holding hands, speaking in covert breathlessness in the garden. One of the girls has similar hair to Claudia, but is larger in build. Who were these two girls? Friends? Perhaps girls Claudia wanted to be friends with? A jealousy? Or most likely just a fascination in their gestures, the attractiveness of their form as they gossiped or jogged. There is one of these pictures that is even more notable than the two girls. It is on the second row, second from the right. Look at the garden, with the main building behind and to the left. Children are running around, there is a collection of hoops among them, and they appear to be chasing them, but in no particular direction. Claudia stands in the midst of the group, slightly to the right of the centre. She is in the middle of the action, but somehow removed from it. Rather than watching the game, she stares out of the painting at the viewer. Her face is expressionless, and her arms hang by her sides. Do you see her? Does she see you? You see the young artist grasp the concept of the viewer, the patron. She looks skeptical, distrustful. This picture isn’t about children playing hoops, it’s about your response to it. Is she trying to intimidate us? Do you feel challenged to enjoy or critique this work? Do you feel your concept grasped by the artist? Do you have a response? It is this drawing that perhaps gives the first, and possibly, the only glimpse we get in the adolescent Claudia that she would go on to be an important artist. #TONE# 4 - Self-Portraits Sketchbook This exhibition includes a sketchbook kept by Claudia during her final years at the centre - before she went on to travel and study all over the world, all drawings done between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. The sketches are varied, and mostly unfinished - close up details done for practice, ideas marked out to be expanded elsewhere. There are disembodied eyes, armless hands, there are figures shot through with lines, marking out proportions, there are theme-less, indistinct doodles. It is entirely a collection of self-portraits in different stages of completion, of scope, of examination. Claudia did not do many self-portraits as an adult, and a working artist. She did not care for them, and did not care to explain why. But it is clear that as a teenager, her feelings were different. There are three self-portraits in this sketch book that are worth considering. The first is on page 10: a simple, plain pencil sketch. It is accomplished, and a good likeness. There is energy to her face, although there is not a strong expression. She told me once that she used to find moths and flies in the garden around the programming centre. She would take those insects and pin them down and study them. She would look at them closely, studying their complex eyes, hairy twitching legs. She wouldn’t kill the damselflies, but she would tear their wings from them and set them back down, watching them crawl away. She would hold the wings, like microscopic stained glass windows up to the sun, and then blow them out to the wind, as if they were seedpods that could land upon a spot of fertile earth and grow again. I asked her why children did such mean things, but she did not think it mean at all. “I still do it from time to time, Roimata,” she told me. And she had a disaffected half-grin as she said it .It was determined, but completely without meaning. The face in this sketch. This was the face she made. The second self-portrait is on page 13: done in pastels, and much more fantastical. She has rendered her brown skin in reds and blues, and given her green irises a sheen of yellow. Her dark hair seems almost alive with colour. It is a style she had cribbed from a children’s book called-- correcting herselfSentence originally ran together without the dash and square brackets that she had had since leaving her home. It is a strong imitation. The third self portrait is a pen and ink drawing on the back cover of the sketch book, with the black ink sinking into the pale green of the book’s cardboard cover. The portrait shows the left half of Claudia’s face, whole and impassive. But the right half has shattered away. Notice how her right eye looks right at you, while the cheek below it is gone. See the jagged edge that cuts down from her right temple to her chin. Did you touch your own cheek as you looked at this? Why? Have you ever imitated an idea? Did you feel bad about it? This portriat is strikingly similar to the self-portrait by Aimee Layeni which currently hangs in the LA County Museum in Los Angeles, North America. Layeni was of a larger build, with a rounder face, and no glasses. But her hair was similar to Atieno’s. Layeni’s portrait was unveiled when Claudia was in her early twenties - the two were almost the same age. Once Claudia commented to me on how much she loved Layeni’s self-portrait, and how much she had wanted to see Aimee again. How she missed Aimee. I said I didn’t know you two knew each other. I asked when was the last time she saw her, but Claudia replied “I can’t say,” and I wasn’t sure if she meant she didn’t know, or wasn’t allowed to. She did not tell me of this sketch, at the time. She did not mention which centre she had grown up in. She did not tell me who else had been there. Errors Category:Transcripts